


quo fata ferunt

by alison



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when louis ends up going on holiday with his girlfriend's best friend's boyfriend, things get very messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quo fata ferunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicalyse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicalyse/gifts).



> **VERY IMPORTANT WARNING:** this fic contains cheating. not only does it contain cheating, it is a story told from the perspective of the cheater. it is not meant to glorify cheating, but it's an attempt to show it as realistically as possible. if this sounds like something that will upset you, i beg you not to read it.
> 
> i will include more spoiler-y information about the cheating in the end notes. 
> 
> nicalyse, i hope this fulfills your cheating fic prompt! thank you so much for your wonderful prompts- i wish i could have written more!

When Louis walks into the flat after work, he’s surprised to hear Eleanor in the office, a second bedroom that they’d transformed into a work space for her. She’s a merchandiser at Anthropologie and she’s never truly off the clock, so she had needed an office when they moved in together. Louis peeks into the room, finding her sitting at her desk, frowning at some photos. He’s still fuzzy on the details of her job and, for the most part, he’s learned that it’s best to just leave it be.

“Hi, babe,” he says, smiling when she whips her head up, surprised by his voice. “Wasn’t expecting you to be home already.” He walks into the room and kisses her once, glad to see it’s not one of those days when she’s so busy that he’s not even allowed in the room, much less a kiss.

“I came home after lunch. They’re painting in the office,” she says, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “Since I didn’t have any meetings for the rest of the day, it seemed like a good idea.”

Louis reaches a hand out to run his fingers through her hair. It’s one of his favourite things about her; he even loves it when it’s all messy and tangled in the morning, but it’s so soft like this, his fingers gliding through it. “And when do you suppose you’ll be done for the night? Should I make dinner or do you want to go out?”

“Already put a chicken in the oven,” she says, grinning. “And Charlotte brought me a bottle of wine from her trip to Italy, so we have that as well.”

Louis dips down to kiss her again. “Why are you so great, hmm?”

She smiles into his lips, then pulls away and looks back down at the photos in front of her. Louis knows that’s his cue, so he starts to walk away before she calls out. “Oh, and I’ve invited Patrick and Nick over as well.”

He stops in his place halfway toward the door and slumps, turning back to where Eleanor is conveniently absorbed in work again. Instead of arguing with her this time, he scrubs his hands over his face and sighs heavily. “Hope we have more than one bottle of wine,” he mumbles, just loud enough for her to hear. “I’m going to need it.”

He leaves the room then, going into the kitchen to assess their stock of alcohol. Luckily, they’ve still got a bottle of Chardonnay in the refrigerator from a wine tasting that he and Eleanor had gone to and there’s half a bottle of rum, too, if things get desperate.

Considering the company, though, he’s guessing they’ll need it.

-

They sit down around the small table in their “dining room” which is really just the space at the end of the living room closest to the kitchen where they’ve put the table. It’s a bit cramped and Louis would love to move, but he and Eleanor had decided a couple of months ago that they’re not going to bother moving until they’re ready to buy a house. And they’re not going to buy a house until they get married. He’s not sure when that will be, but he’s happy with things the way they are and he knows Eleanor is, too.

“El, you’ve outdone yourself,” Patrick says after taking a bite of the chicken.

Louis grins around his mouthful and reaches to his left, squeezing her knee. She’s been so good for him, getting him to try new things and be open-minded. If he was on his own, he’d be eating Cheetos from a bag instead of rosemary chicken with roasted potatoes and carrots.

“You really are perfect,” Nick says, and Louis turns to his right to look at the man. He’s smirking and Louis grits his teeth, preparing himself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth. “A lovely girl like you could probably have anyone, you know.”

Louis glares at him, trying desperately to bite back the many, many insults popping into his mind. He’s about to give in and point out that the same could be said for Patrick, that he could have anyone he wanted, so why the fuck is he wasting his time with this pretentious asshole? He opens his mouth to say it, but Eleanor speaks up first, her hand gently resting on top of Louis’ where it’s still on her knee.

“Maybe,” she says with a kind smile. “I’ve already got the only one I want though.”

It makes Louis feel guilty and he turns away from Nick, focusing on her instead. If he’s honest with himself, he sort of agrees with Nick. She’s far too good for him. She puts up with him leaving his socks all over the flat and forgetting to wash out his mugs and accidentally vacuuming up that plant the one time. She’s the closest thing to perfect anyone could be, probably, and she still picks him every day. It’s unbelievable.

Turning his hand over, he squeezes hers, trying to silently communicate some of those thoughts. He hopes her smile is a sign that she’s understood some of it.

“So, El, did you see the new Stella McCartney line?” Patrick asks, stealing her attention away.

That’s how he knows he’s lost her. It always goes like this. Patrick works in fashion, too, as some sort of low-level executive at Burberry, so whenever they all get together, he and Eleanor get wrapped up in fashion talk, leaving Louis and Nick out. From what Louis understands, Nick is kind of into fashion as well, but he lets the two of them talk to give them a chance to catch up.

It leaves the two of them sitting silently, though, and it’s always awkward. They should have plenty to talk about, as Eleanor always points out, considering that they’re both in the music industry, but any time they try, they just end up arguing. Louis has learned that it’s best to just eat his chicken silently.

Apparently Nick hasn’t quite learned that yet. “Signed anyone new lately?” he asks, leaning back in his chest with his half-full wine glass in hand.

“Why? Losing listeners because you play the same shit over and over?”

Nick’s jaw clenches visibly. “We play what people want to hear,” he answers in a forced-friendly tone. “Besides, half of that _shit_ we play over and over is from Sony artists, so the insult kind of backfires, doesn’t it?”

Louis forces himself to match Nick’s light tone. As long as they’re not yelling, Eleanor and Patrick won’t even notice what they’re saying and Louis won’t get that disappointed look from her that always makes him feel like shit. “At least I’m always looking for something fresh. You’re perfectly fine playing your stale songs until you start getting complaints.”

Nick takes a deep breath, in then out, and he shakes his head. “I’m fucking trying, Louis. I’m just trying to be civil so I don’t get my arse chewed out when I get home for not being nice enough. Can’t you put in a tiny bit of effort, too? Christ.”

Louis drops his head, looking down at his lap. It’s true that he could try a bit harder, but it’s been a year since Nick started coming around and it’s never worked, not since the very first time they met. Looking up, he decides to give it a go and nods. “Thought you _liked_ getting your arse chewed out,” he mumbles, then takes a sip of his wine.

It makes Nick laugh, at least, and Louis rolls his shoulders, prepared to give it his very best effort for the rest of the night.

-

By the time they’re clearing the table, Eleanor and Patrick have finished with the fashion talk, at least for a while. They all move into the living room, Louis and Eleanor taking the armchairs while Patrick and Nick take the sofa.

“So, Nick, Patrick told me you’re being considered for a promotion?” Eleanor says, crossing her long legs gracefully.

“Well, we’ll see,” Nick says, holding his hands up. “I’ve heard a few things, but nothing is set in stone. Don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Patrick elbows him in the ribs, then pulls him in and kisses him. “Shut up. You know you’re going to get it,” he murmurs.

Louis sighs inwardly and looks down at the cup in his hands. It’s something Eleanor had picked up after a trip to France, having a cup of espresso after dinner. The taste is bitter, but Louis has long since let go of his hostile feelings toward coffee, so he takes a small sip as the rest of them talk about Nick’s potential promotion.

“Oh, did I tell you?” Patrick says, bringing Louis’ attention back to the conversation. “We booked a holiday in a couple of weeks. Both of us managed to get a week off of work somehow, so we’re going to Bermuda.”

“You did not tell me!” Eleanor squeals, then deflates, sighing sadly. “Oh, Lou, let’s take a holiday. It’s been so long.”

Louis quirks his eyebrow at her. “El, darling, last night you got out of bed at two in the morning because you heard a fax arriving in the next room. How do you imagine we’ll get away for an entire week?”

She frowns at that for a moment before turning back to the sofa. “Well, you’ll have to tell us everything so we can live vicariously.”

“Updates on the hour,” Patrick agrees, nodding solemnly before Nick’s arm wraps around his shoulders and he leans back into Nick’s chest.

Louis can only imagine what Nick’s Instagram will look like on holiday. It’s bad enough on a normal day, but with him on holiday, it will probably be updated constantly with photos of palm trees and his own face. Louis may need to unfollow him. He’d only followed him in the first place because Eleanor had encouraged it.

As the night winds down, Louis is proud of himself. His lip is nearly bloody from biting it so hard, but he hasn’t shouted once and he definitely hasn’t thrown anything. It’s an accomplishment, really.

“Can we help you clean up?” Patrick asks as they bring their espresso cups into the kitchen.

Eleanor waves him off. “Absolutely not.”

“Aw, let him,” Nick says, walking up behind Patrick and resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Patrick is only a couple of inches shorter than Nick, still taller than Louis, but it looks effortless for Nick to drop his head there, long arms wrapping around his waist. “Cleaning makes him happy. Besides, I doubt you’ll get any help after we leave.”

Louis scowls. The slight wine buzz he’d been enjoying is gone now and he feels edgier, not so willing to bite his tongue. He still manages to keep his response short, spitting out, “Prick.”

“You did deserve that one,” Patrick says, patting Nick’s hip behind him.

Louis would like to point out that he deserves all of them, but he likes Patrick enough to shut his mouth again, appreciative of the gesture of support.

Eleanor wins in the end, shooing their guests out of the kitchen and telling them to go home. Once they have their jackets and shoes on, Louis gives Patrick a big hug, refraining from whispering into his ear that he should find a nice man, one who isn’t an attention-hogging narcissist. He’s quite proud of himself.

When Patrick moves over to give Eleanor a farewell hug, Nick comes to stand in front of Louis, hands in his pockets. “Well, thank you,” he says, pursing his lips.

“For what?”

Nick shrugs. “Having us over,” he says, looking around the room before his eyes land on Louis, “and letting Eleanor cook this time.”

The last time they’d been over, Louis had made a pizza from scratch. He was so proud of it up until he forgot to take it out of the oven and they all had to scrape the toppings off of the crust, which was hard as a rock. It was _one time_. Nick didn’t stop laughing throughout the entire dinner.

Louis glares, but he knows he can’t lose his cool now, not right as they’re leaving. So, he steps toward Nick, pulling him into a hug just so he can whisper into his ear, “When you go to Bermuda, you should just stay there. England will thank you.”

Nick laughs against him and, instead of whispering a retort, he kisses Louis’ cheek and pulls away. “Whatever you say, pet,” he says, then turns away, slinking his arm around Patrick’s waist.

When all of the goodbyes have been said, the two men leave and Louis breathes out, glad it’s over with. He did well enough apparently, if he’s going by Eleanor’s smile. He kisses her once before telling her he’s going to go have a cigarette on the balcony. Outside, he smokes it down fast, letting it soothe his lingering irritation.

When he comes back in, Eleanor is at the sink, washing up, and he takes over if only to prove Nick wrong. It’s not exactly his favourite thing to do, but he is a proper adult and he can wash some bloody dishes. _Prick,_ he thinks to himself again.

With all of the dishes cleaned off and drying, he goes into the bedroom to find that Eleanor’s already changed into this cotton nightie she always wears. It barely skims the tops of her thighs, short enough that he can see her white panties underneath the pink material, and it’s Louis’ favourite thing she’s ever worn.

“Ready for bed?” she asks, setting her book down.

Louis smirks, biting the corner of his lip, and walks toward the bed. “Not quite,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he drags a hand slowly up her leg. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

She hums over a smile and slides down, spreading her legs like an invitation. “Let’s see what you’ve got then,” she says, her grin widening as Louis’ hand slips under her nightie.

Louis will never understand it. It’s every time they have one of these nights, every single time they spend an evening with Patrick and Nick. Louis and Eleanor fuck after they’ve left and it’s never bad with her, never even close, but after these nights, it’s always the best. He supposes it has something to do with releasing frustration and tension, but it’s a bit awkward to think about, that Nick might be the reason he’s having such fucking _amazing_ sex.

If Eleanor has noticed, she hasn’t said anything about it. Louis just tries not to think about it at all.

-

A few days later, Eleanor doesn’t get home until well past eight at night. She’d texted a couple of times, saying her meetings were running late, but Louis’ gotten used to her crazy schedule by now. When she finally comes in, she immediately drops her bags and falls onto the sofa with Louis, stretching out across it with her head in his lap.

“Long day?” Louis asks, bringing a hand to her head to rub her scalp.

“Meetings,” she says flatly. “So many meetings. How can there be so many meetings?”

Louis chuckles and bends down to kiss her, just briefly, the most he can do from this angle. “Have you eaten? I picked up Chinese on the way home, got you the spicy aubergine thing you like. And some chicken spring rolls.”

She hums with interest, smiling tiredly. “Sounds perfect. Thank you,” she says, then hesitates for a moment before getting up with a little groan. As she walks into the kitchen, she calls out over her shoulder, “By the way, Patrick called earlier.”

Pausing the football game he’d been watching, Louis follows her into the kitchen. She has this habit of talking to him from the next room, then getting frustrated when he can’t hear her. Instead of pointing out what she’s doing wrong, he just follows her now.

“Not exactly breaking news, love,” he points out, hopping up onto the counter as she digs the food out of the refrigerator.

“Yes, well, let me finish,” she says, throwing a packet of soy sauce at him. “So, he’d cleared his holiday with his boss last week, but it turns out his boss has a conflict in his schedule and can’t make it to the big show in L.A., so she’s making Patrick go for her. Which means he can’t go to Bermuda.”

Louis frowns sympathetically. He really does like Patrick, has ever since he started dating Eleanor and Patrick was the first one of her friends to really accept him. Just because he has awful taste in men doesn’t mean Louis thinks any less of him. “That sucks,” he says, watching as Eleanor puts a plateful of food into the microwave.

“It’s horrible. He can’t even get a refund on the resort. Apparently they only refund, like, half if it’s not at least a month in advance.”

“Christ,” Louis says, shaking his head. “That’s some serious shit.”

Eleanor nods and waits a few more seconds before taking her food from the microwave, testing the temperature with her finger. Satisfied, she moves to where Louis is seated and hops up next to him, pulling her plate onto her lap. “He asked me to go in his place,” she says, then takes a bite of her spring roll.

It feels like Louis’ eyebrow lifts comically high, his head slowly turning toward her. “Oh? And what did you say to that?” He knows she and Nick are friends, at least more so than he and Nick are. They go to the gym together sometimes, meet for lunch, take walks, but spending a week in Bermuda is not one of the things Louis would imagine them doing together.

She shrugs. “Of course I’d _love_ to go,” she says, not meeting his gaze, “but I can’t miss work now. Like you said, I just don’t have the time.”

Louis nods, not sure what to say. He’d like her to be able to have a holiday, too, but he’d prefer her holiday be with _him_ instead of Nick Grimshaw. It seems rude to say that now, though, so he just nods and waits for her to say something else. She’s still not looking at him, which is odd; he can’t help but feel like there’s more to this.

She spears a bit of aubergine on her fork and pushes it into her mouth, then says, “Told him you might be able to get the time off,” with her mouth still full.

Louis freezes, eyes going wide. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sure I misunderstood you around that food. I’m going to need you to repeat yourself so I know for sure that you didn’t say what I think you said, because what I _think_ you said is _completely_ insane.”

She finally turns to look at him, her big eyes pleading. “Oh, come on, Lou,” she says, wiping her mouth and pushing her plate to the side. She starts counting off on her fingers as she continues. “First, it would save him, like, a thousand pounds. Second, it would be an opportunity for you and Nick to finally get over your stupid problems with each other and become friends. Third, do you really want him to have to go all alone? Have some compassion.”

“Do you think he’d really want to go with _me_?” Louis asks incredulously. “I reckon he’d rather be alone.”

“I think if you were nice to him for more than ten minutes, he’d like to go with you,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “He’s a perfectly sweet bloke. I don’t understand why you have such a problem with him. Patrick said that in the beginning Nick thought you were just a homophobic arsehole.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Well, we can rule that out.”

“True,” Eleanor agrees, shrugging. Louis has never hid the fact that he’s bisexual from her. He’s told her everything, how he’s dated men and women, how he’s attracted to both sexes fairly equally. He tells her when he thinks someone is cute, regardless of that person’s gender, and she’s been perfectly fine with it. She’s been great, really. “I just don’t get it,” she goes on, looking defeated. “Is it just because you’re too alike?”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Eleanor Calder, you take that back.”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes now. “You _are_ , Louis. You’re both so outgoing, like to be at the middle of things. You both love music enough to dedicate your careers to it and you both watch far too much reality telly. You’re a lot alike, babe.”

Louis scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “On paper, maybe,” he admits, even though it pains him to do so.

“Mhmm,” Eleanor replies innocently, grabbing her plate again and taking another bite. “So, I’ll take that as a maybe for Bermuda.”

“I definitely did not say maybe,” he points out.

“Well, you’re not allowed to say no right now, so it’s either a maybe or a yes.”

Shaking his head, he slides off the counter and goes to the refrigerator to find a beer. He twists the cap off using his shirt to protect his fingers, then tosses it in the bin. “You have the worst ideas, El,” he says, walking back to where she’s sitting and stepping between her legs.

“Oh, really?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Hmm. I was thinking about using a dildo on you while I ride you later, but if I have such terrible ideas –”

“No, no,” Louis interrupts quickly, straightening his spine. “I misspoke. You have wonderful ideas.”

Her smile is confident, sexy, and cute all at the same time and Louis forgets all about Bermuda as he leans in to kiss her, the taste of spicy sauce leftover on her lips.

-

It takes three days for her to wear him down. It _has_ been a long time since he’s had a holiday and a week of sun and sand and fruity mixed drinks certainly doesn’t sound bad. It’s possible he’s just dating the most persuasive person in England, but her persuasions are definitely working.

Before he can totally agree to it, though, he needs to talk to Nick, so he texts him, arranging to meet for lunch on a Thursday. It’s one week before the trip is planned and there’s not much time left to decide, but he can’t say yes without seeing what Nick thinks about this whole bizarre idea.

When he gets to the restaurant, Nick is already seated at a table near the window, so Louis slides into a chair across from him. “Hey.”

“Hey, mate,” Nick says, giving him a little smile.

“Mate?” Louis asks, peeling off his jacket. “Aren’t we –”

“Louis, stop,” Nick interrupts. He holds up his hands like he’s surrendering. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. It’s fun sometimes, messing with you, but sometimes it feels like you actually hate me and I don’t want that, okay? I want us to get along.”

Louis sits, stunned, staring at the man across from him. He can’t help but wonder if this is actually how he feels or if Patrick’s the second-most persuasive person in England and has convinced Nick that they should be friends. Not that they aren’t friends, really. In a way, they are. They’re just friends who don’t get along.

“I don’t hate you,” he finally says, tilting his head to the side. “I mean, obviously you’re not my favourite person, but I sure as fuck don’t _hate_ you.”

Nick nods, tapping his fingers against the table for a long moment, then takes a deep breath. “Do you think you could grow to like me? Because if not, maybe you shouldn’t come to Bermuda. But I think, maybe, we could have fun together.”

Louis thinks about that. He’s never understood this thing with Nick because, fuck it, Eleanor’s right. They’re a lot alike in a lot of ways. There are distinct differences obviously, but they’re similar enough that they really should get along.

If he’s very honest with himself, he might know what it is deep down. He just refuses to think about it.

“Chips with cheese and bacon,” a woman’s voice says next to him and then there’s a massive basket of chips being set down on the table. The woman turns to Louis then, smiling. “Anything to drink?”

“Water’s good, thanks,” Louis says, then turns back to Nick as she disappears. “Didn’t think you ate crap like that.”

Nick nudges the basket closer to Louis. “Yeah, they’re for you. I know you like them.”

He seems sincere: about the chips, about wanting to be friends, about all of it. He doesn’t seem like a man who’s been talked into this by his boyfriend. “Well, at least have some,” Louis says, pushing the basket back to the middle. “I can’t eat all of this myself.”

Nick smiles and, as Louis scoops a messy pile of cheesy chips onto his plate, Nick does the same, only taking a few. He cuts them up with his fork and, before he takes a bite, he kicks Louis’ foot under the table.

“So, are you coming with me or not?”

Louis rolls his eyes and, god help him, says, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll come.”

They don’t shout once throughout lunch. In fact, they don’t even glare at each other or mumble nasty comments. It’s good enough that Louis thinks maybe this whole holiday isn’t such a terrible idea after all.

-

The night before they leave, Patrick and Nick come over again as sort of a farewell gathering. Louis is all packed, thanks in large part to Eleanor, and they order pizza, sitting around the table again as they eat. Louis and Nick are, amazingly enough, maintaining their friendliness and Eleanor and Patrick seem pleasantly surprised. There have been no fights, no arguments; Louis even offered Nick a beer before they all sat down.

Maybe they just needed one of them to be the bigger person and put an end to it. Louis is a bit irritated that _he_ wasn’t the bigger person, but he supposes that’s not one of his best character traits. It’s not easy for him to throw his hands up in surrender.

“What’s you two’s portmanteau?” Nick asks thoughtfully when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Louis frowns. “What’s that?”

“Your celebrity couple name,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes. “He’s all upset because ours is Panick.”

“It’s not very nice sounding, is it?” Nick says frantically, waving his arms around.

Louis turns to Nick, eying him like he’s crazy. Which he is, to be fair. “Good thing you’re not famous then, isn’t it?”

Patrick leans forward and says, “Thank you,” like he’s been trying to explain that to Nick.

“I think Panick is cool,” Eleanor offers. “Kind of sounds like a rapper’s name or something.”

Nick actually looks like he considers that, head tilting as he thinks, but then he shakes his head in despair. “No, no, it’s a bad omen is what it is. Every couple should have a proper portmanteau.”

The table falls silent, Nick frowning and Patrick shaking his head and Eleanor nibbling on her pizza. Louis looks around the table, then lands on Nick, leaning forward. “Can I still call you an idiot now that we’re getting along? Because you’re a _massive_ idiot.”

Nick glances up at him and, for a moment, Louis thinks he’s fucked it up. But then a smile cracks on Nick’s face and he starts laughing, dropping his head into his hands.

“You might be right about that,” he says as he looks up, his eyes bright with laughter.

Patrick’s exasperated expression turns to a smile then and Eleanor drops her pizza, sliding a hand onto Louis’ knee. When he looks over at her, she looks so pleased, like she’s proud of him for playing nice. He smiles at her, then turns back to Nick to ask him to assign Eleanor and him a portmanteau since he appears to be the expert on it, but he’s leaning over, kissing Patrick.

Louis drops his gaze quickly and, really, he’s seen them kiss a thousand times, probably, but it’s never made his cheeks heat up. Or maybe they were just always already hot from anger. Either way, he doesn’t spare much of a thought for it, blaming it on his beer.

“I’m going to go have a smoke,” he says, excusing himself from the table.

Outside, the air is crisp and it feels wonderful against Louis’ skin. It’s just a touch too cold; he probably should have brought a jacket, but it feels nice in the moment and he’s not planning on staying out long anyway.

He’s just gotten his cigarette lit when the door slides open and Nick’s head pops out. “Mind if I join you?”

Louis gestures for him to come out as he exhales smoke, watching Nick close the door behind him and fish a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

“Yes, by the way,” Nick says, then lights his cigarette, sucking in and blowing out slowly as he peers at Louis. “I like it when you call me an idiot when it’s all in good fun.”

“Good,” Louis answers, shuffling over to the railing to lean his bum against it. “Otherwise, I don’t think this friendship thing will work.”

Nick laughs softly, turning away to look out over the street in front of their building. His breath is fogging, the air cold enough for it to be visible, and Louis shivers, rubbing his palms down his bare arms.

“Good time to go to Bermuda, eh?” Louis points out. It’s springtime in London, meaning it’s cool and wet pretty much every day, but it’s been colder than usual for the past few days. He’s excited about the thought of temperatures in the twenties, not to mention the sun. He’s got his typical pale post-winter complexion now and he can’t wait to get a bit of colour.

Nick nods, smiling. “I’m excited. I think it’ll be good.” He takes a drag from his cigarette, then turns to Louis, exhaling before he says, “I’m glad you’re coming.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but it’s not rude like it always used to be. It almost feels like they can do the same things, insult each other and glare at each other, but now that there’s an understanding between them, the harshness of it is gone. “Don’t go all soft on me now,” he says.

Nick shakes his head quickly. “No, I mean it. I was going to have to bring my _mum_. You’re saving me.”

Louis laughs at the idea of Nick on his romantic holiday away with his mum. He’s heard enough of Nick’s stories to know she’d spend the whole trip giving him a hard time, probably giving him judgmental looks whenever he ordered a drink. Louis almost wishes he hadn’t said yes now because he’d fucking love to hear about that.

“Well, you’re welcome,” he says instead. “I know you’re probably bummed Patrick can’t go.”

Nick’s expression shifts the tiniest bit, sadness creeping into it as he looks away. “Yeah, y’know.”

“I’ll make sure it’s fun,” Louis says quickly, not wanting to dwell on the negatives. “We’ll get drunk and swim and, I don’t know. But it’ll be good, I promise.”

Nick’s lips curl into a slow smile. “I believe you.”

Louis smiles, too, and their eyes meet for a moment before he turns away, bringing his cigarette to his lips. He thinks that maybe there was a reason he was always such a dick to Nick, that there was a function it served, and now that it’s gone, Louis isn’t sure this is actually going to be better.

He’s not thinking about it, though; he fucking can’t. So, he smokes his cigarette and, when he’s finished and his skin is cold to the touch, he heads back inside and walks straight to Eleanor, pulling her into his arms.

-

In the morning, Eleanor has to go into work, so Louis gives her a kiss goodbye, promising to send lots of photos and updates all week. An hour later, Louis is climbing into the back seat of Patrick’s car to head off to the airport. The ride feels long and Louis rests his head against the window as Nick and Patrick talk in the front. He doesn’t listen to what they’re saying, just watches the city go by as they head west.

When they arrive, Louis gives Patrick a quick hug, thanking him, then goes to the boot to pull out their luggage. It gives the other two men a chance to say goodbye without Louis awkwardly standing there, watching them. By the time he’s got all of their bags on the pavement and the boot closed, Nick is pulling away from Patrick’s lips, muttering something softly enough that Louis gratefully can’t hear.

“Ready?” Louis asks once Patrick’s back in the car, driving away.

Nick turns to him, takes a deep breath, and nods. “Yep, let’s go,” he says, managing a smile.

Louis refrains from patting him on the back, leading the way into the airport instead.

-

By the time they get on the plane, Nick has long since stopped sulking and Louis is grateful. It’s not that he doesn’t understand it – he’s going to miss Eleanor, of course – but he’s not sure how to do the comforting thing with Nick. It leaves him feeling strangely ill at ease, so when Nick sits in his seat next to the window and grins happily, Louis feels better.

“I’m sitting by the window on the next flight,” Louis says, taking the aisle seat.

“Fine by me,” Nick says, shrugging. “The next flight is only a couple of hours anyway.”

Louis pinches his arm, then starts rummaging around in his rucksack for his iPod and headphones. He’s brought a bit of work with him, having uploaded some demos onto his iPod to listen to during the flight. He’s got several responsibilities in his position, but a large part of his job is identifying potential new artists for the label. He figures that, when his job is listening to music and passing judgment on it, it’s not such a chore to bring it along on holiday with him.

“What are those?” Nick asks, pointing at the stack of papers that Louis pulls out next.

“Fact sheets,” Louis says, kicking his rucksack back under the seat in front of him. “Artist bios, photos, that sort of thing.”

Nick peers at the stack curiously. “So, you, like, listen to the music and read about them and decide whether to give them a chance or not?”

Louis shrugs. “Basically, yeah.”

“So you’re like a real life Simon Cowell,” Nick says, his eyes lighting up. “Are you as harsh as he is? Brutally honest?”

Louis can’t help but laugh at how excited Nick seems. They’ve known each other for a bloody year; he knows that Nick has always known what he does for a living. It’s the first time he’s ever really asked about it though. Maybe it’s the first time he ever felt comfortable enough to.

“I don’t get quite as high-profile artists as he does, sadly. Mostly garage bands and indie singers.” Nick doesn’t seem deflated at all, still staring curiously at the papers in Louis’ hands. Louis sighs and holds them out. “Want to help me then?”

Nick actually beams, taking the papers and immediately flipping through them. Louis rolls his eyes and plugs his headphones into his iPod, queueing up the first contender.

They spend hours going through the potential Sony artists, listening to their music and ripping their fact sheets apart. Nick is brutal, clearly channeling Simon Cowell as he tosses people out for having eyes that are too close together or teeth that are too big or a typo in their fact sheet or a slightly whiny voice.

It’s fun though. It’s more fun than Louis has had doing his job in a long time. It was exciting when he started, when he felt that rush of power that came with deciding people’s fates. He’s not the only one who gets a say, of course; it’s his job to pick out the ones who will be sent along to higher-ups who will make the final decision. But he’s the one who can put an end to someone’s hopes and dreams by sending them to the rejection pile.

As time has passed, though, it’s become more of a routine than anything. Now, with Nick, he’s reminded how fucking awesome his job is. It has him in a good mood for the entire flight, even after they’ve gone through the stack of potentials, leaving notes scribbled all over their fact sheets.

-

When they finally get to the hotel, it’s nearly ten at night. It feels even later than that with the time change and the long day of traveling, so all Louis wants is to get to the room and pass out in bed. He stands to the side as Nick gives the woman at the front desk their reservation information, glancing around the huge, beautiful lobby.

“Okay, Mr. Grimshaw, I have you booked in a deluxe oceanview room with a king bed,” the woman says pleasantly.

Louis is too tired and focused on the idea of having a room looking out over the ocean to notice the problem that Nick spots immediately.

“No, sorry, I called last week and changed it to a room with two queen beds. See?” He hands over a piece of paper that looks like a printout of an e-mail with the reservation on it. “This is the confirmation I got.”

Louis watches as the woman looks at the paper, then types something into the computer. After a moment, her eyes scanning the screen, she frowns. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Grimshaw, it appears that the reservation was not changed in our system.”

“But it’s right there,” Nick says, pointing to the paper.

“I understand,” she says patiently. “Clearly we’ve made a mistake. Unfortunately, the only rooms still available are all king rooms. I don’t have anything with two beds.”

Louis finally catches up, meeting Nick’s gaze. He looks like he’s about to yell and, even though Louis is not thrilled about the mix-up and he’s exhausted, he knows that getting pissed off isn’t going to help anything. So, he pushes Nick aside and stands in front of the woman.

“Hi. Okay, what if we take the king room for tonight and you move us into a room with two beds when one opens up? When will that be?” The woman nods, obviously appreciative of the fact that she’s not being yelled at, and starts typing again, staring at the computer screen. Louis turns to Nick, finding him with his elbows on the counter and his head in his hands. “Hey, we’ll just ask for one of those rollaway beds, alright? I’ll sleep there, it’s fine.”

When Nick turns toward him, head still resting on his hand, he doesn’t seem as angry. He looks as tired as Louis feels. “I know you didn’t want to come on this trip, Lou. I’m not going to make it any worse by sticking you on some shitty cot. I’ll take it, you take the bed.”

Louis rolls his eyes and leans closer, poking Nick in the stomach. “I’m in Bermuda, mate,” he says with a small smile. “I’ll sleep on the fucking beach, I don’t care.”

“Okay,” the woman says, dragging Louis’ attention back to her. “It looks like the earliest I can get you moved to a room with two queen beds is Sunday. I’ll go ahead and reserve that for you and, of course, I’ll be happy to offer a reduced rate for the first three nights of your stay.”

Louis’ eyebrows lift and he turns to Nick. “See? What a bargain.”

Nick rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyway.

They get the room situation all figured out and take their keycards, following a young man who’s got their bags on a trolley. Their room is in a different building, but it’s not far and, within minutes, they’re there. Taking an elevator up to the second floor, they walk down a short hallway to the end, finding their room number.

“I’ll bring the extra bed right up,” the young man says once he’s unloaded their bags from the trolley, then backs out of the room.

It’s a beautiful room, spacious and clean, and the bed is massive in the middle. Louis wants to collapse onto it so badly, but he goes to his suitcase instead, digging out his bag of toiletries. Bringing it into the bathroom, he retrieves his toothbrush and toothpaste and starts brushing his teeth before he notices the tub at the end of the room.

There’s a shower stall in the corner, but there’s also a huge separate jacuzzi tub next to it, probably big enough to fit three people in it. Four, maybe, if they were particularly small. He wonders if the other room has a tub like that. He hopes so.

Before he’s done brushing, he hears the man coming back with their extra bed and, when he makes his way out of the bathroom, it’s already set up at the end of the room. It’s absolutely pitiful looking next to the king bed, tiny and flimsy. Louis frowns at it, then looks back to the bed.

“I’ll take it,” Nick says, waving Louis away.

Louis thinks for a moment. He thinks about the function his lack of friendliness toward Nick had served, thinks about the reasons he suspects he’s always been such a dick to him. It doesn’t mean anything, though, nothing more than overthinking on his part.

“Honestly, Nick, this bed is huge,” he says, gesturing to it. “We could both sleep on it and never even know the other was there.”

Nick shakes his head, unfolding a sheet and laying it over the rollaway bed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Louis gives him an incredulous look. “Do you think I haven’t slept with blokes before?” he asks before he realizes how that sounds. “I mean, like, in the same bed.”

Nick gives him a little smirk, just barely meeting his gaze. “I’m sure you’ve done all of the above,” he says pointedly, “but not with me. You hated me until last week, remember?”

“I was very clear that it was never hate,” Louis corrects, pointing at him.

“Yeah, fine, but you sure as fuck didn’t _like_ me.”

Louis sighs. He doesn’t want to get into this now, if ever; he doesn’t want to dissect his negative feelings toward Nick and try to make any sense of them. Honestly, he’s been trying pretty hard not to do that all along.

“If you don’t sleep in the bed, I’m not sleeping in the bed,” he finally says, setting his jaw. Before Nick can ask, Louis pulls the comforter off of the bed and throws it on the floor, lying down on top of it.

“You’re serious,” Nick says flatly, staring down at him.

“Very.” Louis smiles, stretching out on top of the rumpled comforter.

Nick glares at him for a long moment, then walks closer and kicks him. “Fine, get up,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Why are you so bloody impossible?”

“I’m sorry I don’t want you to be sore for three days,” Louis retorts, climbing up off the floor and throwing the comforter back on the bed. It’s not quite straight, but Louis leaves it as he kicks off his shoes and starts to work on sliding his jeans off.

When they finally get settled, there’s enough room between them that Louis can stretch out, melting into the soft mattress beneath him without even touching Nick. “See?” he mumbles sleepily, turning onto his side away from Nick. “It’s fine.”

If Nick ever responds, Louis is asleep before he does.

-

In the morning, Louis wakes up to the sun streaming in through the window and he blinks his eyes open, looking toward the light. It had been too dark to see the view the night before, but now, without even sitting up in bed, he can see the bright blue ocean just past the resort grounds. There’s a balcony, too, and Louis smiles, thinking that a cup of tea in one of the chairs out there seems like the perfect way to start his day.

He rolls onto his back to stretch, but he bumps into Nick, their shoulders touching. Looking up, he sees that Nick is awake, though barely.

“Hey,” he says, his voice still a little froggy, then rolls the other way to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” Nick replies quietly. “Sleep well?”

“Like a fucking rock.” Louis grabs his phone from the bedside table and swipes it open, finding a text from Eleanor from early that morning. He hadn’t even thought to let her know they got in safely the night before, what with the fatigue and the room situation.

_Hi love! Made it okay? Let me know!_

He smiles and walks to the window, snapping a photo of the view from their room. He sends it along to her with the message: _All good! Wish you were here babe xx_

“Mind if I take a shower?” Nick asks from where he’s still in bed.

Louis turns away from the window toward him. “No, mate, go for it. I’m gonna see what I can do about a cup of tea and sit on the balcony for a bit.”

A few minutes later, he’s got some shitty tea that he had to make in a coffee pot and he’s sitting outside, watching the waves roll over the surface of the water. It’s calming and he can feel himself slipping into holiday mode, letting the stress of his job and life in general disappear. He gets a reply from Eleanor after a bit: _Jealous!!! Have fun! :)_

He promises her that he will, then puts his phone in his pocket, closing his eyes as the sun warms his skin.

-

By noon, they each have a margarita in hand and they’re laid out on loungers on the beach. Louis had gone into the water for a bit, but his skin is dry now, just sand still stuck between his toes.

“You’re going to burn,” Nick says, squinting at him. He’s been obsessively smearing sunscreen over his own skin the whole time they’ve been out. It’s only been an hour or so, but Louis is sure he’s reapplied at least five times.

“I would if I were as pale as you,” Louis points out, raising an eyebrow. “I did put on sunscreen.”

“Before you got in the water. It’s probably all washed away. Besides, you have that shitty spray stuff. It barely works.”

Louis looks down at his chest. It doesn’t look any different, but he can’t deny that he can feel the sun beating down on him. Sighing, he flips over onto his stomach to at least ward off the burn. “It’s fine,” he says, closing his eyes.

A minute later, he hears Nick moving next to him and, opening his eyes, he sees Nick standing, holding his sunscreen. “I don’t want you complaining for the rest of the trip when you’re burnt to a crisp. Just let me, okay?”

Louis shrugs. “If it’ll make you feel better.” He closes his eyes again, warm and relaxed, but he jolts when he feels Nick’s hands spreading cold lotion onto his back.

“Sorry,” Nick mumbles, then works the lotion into Louis’ skin, his touch firm but his movements slow.

It takes Louis by surprise how fucking good it feels. He’d thought he would just him slap it on and hastily smear it around, but he’s actually massaging it into his skin, making a shiver run down Louis’ spine. It’s all he can do to keep from letting out a moan as he tilts his head forward, giving Nick more access.

“Legs too?” Nick asks once he’s rubbed the sunscreen into the entire area of his back and arms, leaving Louis feeling a bit boneless.

“Okay,” Louis answers, embarrassed when it comes out hoarse, barely any sound at all.

Nick moves down and then his hands are on Louis’ legs, thumbs working over his calf muscles. Louis actually has to bite down on his lip as they move up, just barely dipping under the bottom hem of Louis’ trunks above his knees. It’s so fucking stupid, having any kind of reaction to this, especially the kind of reaction that has his fingernails biting into his palms. The kind of reaction that has him frozen in his place, unable to turn over _just in case_ the feeling of Nick’s hands have affected him in a very noticeable way. He refuses to shift, not wanting to know if the tingles in his belly are what he thinks they are.

“All done,” Nick announces, giving Louis’ leg a gentle squeeze before moving back to his own chair.

Louis tries to say “thanks” but the word gets stuck in his lungs, his throat too dry to push it out.

It’s fucking stupid.

-

There are several restaurants at the resort, from super casual to intimidatingly formal, and Louis is glad when Nick suggests one that falls somewhere in between. He hadn’t packed any formal clothes because he hadn’t expected – nor wanted – to do any fine dining during the stay.

The restaurant is on a terrace overlooking the water and Nick and Louis are seated at a small table in the far corner, at the edge nearest to the water. They’d gone back to the hotel to shower and change after their day at the beach and it had taken Nick ages to do his hair, so it’s past eight by the time they sit, the sun already setting.

“Pretty innit?” Louis says, looking out over the ocean, orange and red bouncing off of the surface from the sunset. He smiles, then looks at Nick, finding him staring back.

Nick looks away quickly, out toward the ocean instead, and nods. “It’s nice, yeah.”

Louis’ stomach twists. He doesn’t know if that was anything or if it’s all in his head; maybe all of these thoughts he’s been having lately are just a product of too much sun or not enough sleep. Except that they started back in London and he’s been sleeping just fine.

“I think I want to go to a yoga class tomorrow,” Nick says, looking over his menu. “Want to come?”

Louis laughs, shaking all of his ridiculous thoughts away. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less, honestly.”

Nick rolls his eyes without looking up from his menu and says, “Fine. Is there anything you want to do?”

The waiter shows up before Louis can reply, bringing their drinks and taking their food orders. Louis takes a sip of his mojito, smiling at the taste, and when the waiter is gone again, he looks across the table. Nick is looking, too, but he doesn’t avert his gaze this time.

“I’d like to go surfing,” Louis says, thinking. “And maybe try parasailing. That could be cool.”

Nick’s nose wrinkles just a bit. “God. Well, I’ll go to yoga and get a massage and you go do that stuff.”

“See, and El said we were so alike,” Louis says, shaking his head in disappointment. “Clearly she was wrong.”

Nick’s eyebrows lift curiously and he leans forward, fingers playing with the straw in his vodka tonic. “She said that, hmm?”

“Said it’s probably why we’ve never gotten along,” Louis says with a shrug.

Nick studies him for a long moment, elbow resting against the table, and he drops his chin on his hand. “Is that what you think, too?”

Louis flushes, suddenly feeling backed into a corner. He hadn’t meant to bring this up and he definitely doesn’t want to go any further into it, not even in his own head. “Maybe,” he says, dropping his gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s part of it.”

Nick doesn’t reply for a minute and Louis doesn’t look up. He pretends to pick at his fingernails, just to have an excuse not to look at Nick. He can still feel his gaze on him, still studying him, and it makes Louis feel hot.

“We’re getting along now, though, yeah?”

There’s something hopeful in Nick’s tone that makes Louis finally meet his gaze, smiling. The sky is orange, the last of the sunlight creating a warm glow around them and Nick’s skin is lit up with it.

“Reckon we are,” Louis answers. His heart beats heavy in his chest and he grabs his straw, flicking it at Nick just to ruin the moment.

Because moments like that can’t happen. They just can’t.

-

As they eat, the sun sets completely, the sky turning dark. Louis hadn’t let himself have more than one drink, so when he stands from the table, he feels sturdy on his feet. It was necessary, he knows. He needs to stay in control, even if it means spending the whole holiday sober.

“Well, aren’t we old, going to bed at ten o’clock when we’re on holiday,” Nick comments as they head into the building.

“Feels like two though.” Louis steps into the elevator behind Nick, leaning back against the wall as Nick presses the button for the second floor.

When they get into their room, Louis goes straight to the bathroom to have a wee and brush his teeth. He’s knackered, just wants to slip into that nice comfortable bed and pass out. It’s bizarre how lying in the sun can be exhausting, but he’s feeling it now.

When he’s finished, he gets into bed and passes out before Nick even comes back from his turn in the bathroom.

-

He’s having a dream. Or is it a dream? Is he asleep or is he awake? He might be somewhere in between, really; all he knows is that Nick is close and Louis can’t stop himself now, can’t stop wanting to get closer. It’s a dream, it has to be, and Louis won’t hold back now. He has to see what it feels like, has to breathe him in and touch him now that he has a chance.

“Are you awake?”

The words filter into Louis’ brain, into his dream, and pull him out of it. He wakes up slowly, realizing that although they’d fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed, they’re now pressed together in the middle, chest to chest, and Louis’ face is tucked into Nick’s neck. It takes a few seconds for him to become aware, to actually understand what’s going on. It takes longer for the reality to set in, to remember that he can’t be doing this.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. His arm is around Nick’s waist and he’d feel like an even bigger idiot if Nick’s hand wasn’t resting on his arm. He could have pushed Louis away but he hasn’t and he isn’t and Louis isn’t either, isn’t moving away at all.

It feels good, being all tucked into Nick like this. He smells so good, like the beach and that expensive wax stuff he puts in his hair, and it’s not cheating. It feels like it, feels so fucking wrong, but if he doesn’t move, if he just stays like this, he won’t have anything to fess up to when he gets home. It’s not cheating just to hold someone, just to be held. At least he doesn’t think it is.

“Did you think I was someone else?” Nick asks, soft and unsure over Louis’ ear.

Louis shakes his head, the movement probably almost imperceptible to Nick. “No,” he answers just as quietly. Even if he wasn’t awake, he knew it was Nick the whole time.

A moment later, Nick’s hand moves, carefully sliding up his arm like he might be pushed away at any moment. When it gets to Louis’ shoulder, it starts to move down again, this time over his side. Louis shudders at the feeling, finds himself inching closer when he should be pulling away.

“Fuck,” he says again, slightly more panicked.

“I know,” Nick says immediately, low and pained. “I know, _shit_.”

Louis knows then. He knows that the thing they’ve been dancing around is this, knows in his gut that he’s wanted this for longer than he would have been willing to admit. And he knows that Nick is right there with him, that it’s not all in Louis’ mind.

And he knows that, even if this isn’t cheating, that it’s going to be. He’s trying so hard not to move, but as soon as he does, he knows which direction he’ll be moving. He’s a terrible person, a truly _idiotic_ person, but he has to see. He has to feel it, just once.

They don’t speak any more as Nick’s hand slides up and down Louis’ side and Louis’ hand curls into the back of Nick’s shirt. It’s the middle of the night and his heart is racing, wide awake now. Something about the darkness makes him feel like maybe he could get away with it without destroying everything. So he does.

He pulls away from Nick’s neck, tilting his head until his nose bumps into Nick’s and he’s right there, so close, but he needs permission. He needs to know Nick is willing to be as much of an idiot as he is.

“Can I kiss you?”

Nick’s answer is a shuddered breath against his lips, fingernails digging into Louis’ back beneath his shirt, and then a kiss. He kisses him desperately, but soft, too, and Louis loses all brainpower as he kisses back. His thoughts are gone, just a wild feeling uncurling in his chest, needy and ashamed.

Time sort of goes funny and Louis gets lost in it, so buried in the feeling that he has no idea how fast the clock is ticking. He forgets where he is, forgets everything that isn’t Nick’s lips kissing him so perfectly, hands roaming over his body, soft little sounds squeezing from his lungs. Everything else seems to fade to nothing, just fuzzy background noise.

“I can’t- fuck, I can’t,” Nick whispers between kisses, even as he makes no attempt to pull away. “Want you so fucking much.”

Louis knows exactly how he feels, that pull between not wanting to fuck everything up and wanting this as much as he’s ever wanted anything. It’s got him feeling frantic, out of control, and so fucking _hard_. When Nick rolls him onto his back, climbing over him, Louis can’t help but let out a soft whimper as one of Nick’s legs presses between his own.

“I love him,” Nick mumbles, leaning into Louis, pressing his weight against him until Louis can feel how hard he is, too. “I really do, I love him so much.”

It should seem odd, having someone’s clothed erection pressed against his hip as that person professes their love for someone else. It should feel fucked up even talking about it right now, about the people they’re hurting, but Louis finds that it clears his mind a bit, makes him feel less like he’s spiraling out of control.

“I do, too,” he says, sliding his hands down to Nick’s hips and gripping them. “Love her so much.”

Nick sits up then and Louis is worried he’s going to walk away, or maybe he’s relieved. He doesn’t figure it out before Nick sits back on his knees and looks into Louis’ eyes through the darkness, bringing his fingers to the waistband of Louis’ pants.

He doesn’t verbally ask, but there’s a question in the silence and Louis answers by lifting his hips, letting Nick pull the material down and off his legs.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he lies in front of Nick, naked from the waist down and desperate for more.

He can see the struggle happening in Nick’s conscience, the guilt and the need battling it out. He wants to reassure him, to tell him that it’s okay, but Louis can feel it himself. He knows how fucked up this is, how bloody selfish, but he’s not sure he can be stopped now. He’s already gotten this far; he may as well see it through at this point.

He reaches down to slip his fingers around his cock; it’s heavy in his hand, warm and soft, and he gives himself a slow stroke, his breath catching at how good it feels. “If you don’t want to –” he starts before he’s interrupted by Nick pulling his hand away.

“I fucking want to,” he says as he dips down and, in a flash, takes Louis into his mouth.

Louis gasps at the feeling, Nick’s wet mouth sucking him in. His tongue slips down the underside of his cock, slick with saliva, and Louis can barely breathe with how good it feels. His hands grasp at the sheets and he squeezes his eyes shut tight, shaking as Nick sucks him steadily.

“This can’t happen again,” he mumbles mindlessly. “Just tonight, okay? Just this once. I can’t –”

Nick pulls off his cock and rasps, “Just tonight,” using his hand to stroke Louis. “No more. I can’t either.”

Louis looks down and feels guilt wash over him as Nick stares back, hand working over his cock. The guilt is accompanied by desire and excitement, though, and Louis can’t think ahead, not even a day or an hour or a minute. He can only think of now, this moment.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out.

Nick crawls up and Louis helps him out of his clothes, then takes his own t-shirt off, leaving them naked and lying side by side, facing each other. His cock is throbbing, missing Nick’s mouth, but he wants it like this. He wants to be closer.

He slips his hand between them, fingers brushing Nick’s dick, and he watches the way he shudders at the touch, eyelids fluttering. It’s beautiful, honestly. Louis can’t believe he didn’t even like this man a couple of weeks ago. Or, maybe he just wished he didn’t.

“Just once,” he says, wrapping his fingers around Nick’s cock and pulling in a long stroke.

As Nick touches him, too, the pair of them curled together and wanking each other, Louis kisses him again. If it’s just going to be once, he wants to make sure he takes full advantage.

-

When he wakes up, he’s groggy and his vision is blurry as he squints against the sun. It’s not the same feeling as the morning before, that contentment he’d felt when he woke up, looking out at the ocean. It’s not the same because, as his vision focuses, he sees Nick pulling on a t-shirt at the opposite end of the room. His hair is wet so Louis knows he’s been up long enough to shower.

When Nick grabs his key card from the table, he glances toward the bed and freezes when he sees that Louis is awake. “Oh. Hey.”

Louis stares at him and feels like his insides are rotting. “Morning,” he says, the word coming out as a whisper either from hoarseness or tension.

“I’m, uh, heading off for yoga,” Nick says, his characteristic self-confidence seeming cracked, nerves showing. “Think I’ll hit the spa after, so I might be out for a while.”

Louis blinks, but he can’t seem to look away. He nods his understanding, knowing that what Nick is really saying is that he’s going to spend the day alone because of what happened last night. What Louis doesn’t know is if that’s because it’s awkward now or if it’s just a precaution.

“I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?” Nick says, but doesn’t stick around for an answer. He gives a weak smile that Louis can see is entirely fake, and then he walks out of the room.

Louis rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, trying desperately not to think of anything at all.

-

He goes surfing, but either the waves suck or he does because he can’t seem to stay up for more than a few seconds at a time. He suspects it’s a concentration problem because, as much as he’s been trying to keep his mind clear, it’s impossible. The thoughts that continue to pop up aren’t exactly what he’d expected though.

He’d expected complete guilt. He’d expected to be consumed with thoughts of Eleanor and how to tell her what happened and what the result might be. And that’s there, of course, a constant thought in the back of his mind, but he’s surprised by how much of his brainpower is going to Nick. Nick, who could barely look at him that morning. Nick, who said Louis’ name as he came the night before. Nick, who Louis has always found so incredibly irritating and Nick, who Louis feels so completely hooked on now.

He can’t shake the thoughts of the night before, the feeling of Nick’s mouth, the way his dick had felt in Louis’ hand, the softness of his lips. As the day goes on and Louis gives up on surfing, he sits on the beach and wonders what Nick is doing, what he’s thinking. He hopes he’s not angry about it, but maybe even more than that, he hopes he’s not sad.

And then his thoughts circle back to how badly they fucked up, how they both might lose the most important people in their lives because of it.

That doesn’t keep him from thinking about how amazing it had been though. As much as he hates himself for it, nothing can stop him from wishing it could happen again.

-

He finally goes back to the room around six, after a day of sitting on the beach and drinking weak margaritas. They’ve worn off by now, though, and he’s hungry, but he’s not sure if he should go to dinner alone. He doesn’t want to, but if that’s what Nick needs, if they have to spend the rest of this holiday separated, Louis will do it.

Nick’s not in the room when he gets in, but there’s a note on the bed that reads: _went out, be back later._ Louis tosses it in the bin, then flops down on the bed and reaches for the room service menu.

-

It’s dark out and Louis is unfolding the rollaway bed when Nick finally comes in. Louis can tell immediately that he’s tipsy. He’s known the lad long enough and has probably paid too much attention to him during their double date nights to be able to spot it. Louis is guessing he’s had three drinks, maybe four. After that he gets really sloppy, but right now he just looks wobbly on his feet, his eyes darker than usual.

“Hey,” he says, then turns back to the bed, getting the sheets straight.

“Hey,” Nick replies from the doorway.

Louis gets the tiny bed all settled, then turns toward the actual bed. “Mind if I take a pillow?” he asks, grabbing one. When he finally looks up, Nick is staring at him from a few paces away, leaning against the wall. Louis doesn’t know if he’s waiting for an answer or something else, but he holds the pillow and stares back, not moving.

Whatever he’s waiting for, it takes him by surprise when Nick pushes away from the wall and walks right up to him, tearing the pillow from his hands and throwing it back onto the bed. His eyes look dark as he says, “No,” his voice low and rough.

“No, you don’t mind?” Louis asks, frozen in his place.

Nick shakes his head, lifting a hand to Louis’ neck, cupping the side of it. “No, you’re not sleeping there.”

Louis can see it in Nick’s eyes just like he can feel it in his own chest: the destruction they’re asking for, the havoc they’re wreaking. He wonders for a moment as Nick’s thumb swipes over his jaw if he would be forgiven for one night, if that much could be understandable. He’s not sure, of course, but as he closes his eyes and feels Nick leaning into him, pressing their lips together, it feels something like nailing the stake into the coffin.

-

In the morning, Louis wakes up with his leg draped over Nick’s torso, his body twisted away from him. He’s naked and he knows Nick is, too, and it’s sort of strange, waking up with him like this, but this whole thing has been strange. It’s strange to acknowledge that the feeling that rises in him when he looks at Nick isn’t actually irritation or annoyance; it’s desire.

There’s something else there, too, though, some attraction beyond the physical. He wishes that part wasn’t there because it would be easier to deal with this is if it was just straight up sex. It would still leave him feeling shitty, of course, but it would be easier.

“Your knee’s digging into my ribs,” Nick mumbles, eyes still closed.

Louis immediately pulls his leg away, rolling to the edge of the bed. They’d gotten each other off again the night before, but Louis isn’t sure what that means. Are they going to spend their days pretending the other doesn’t exist, only to come back to the room every night and fuck?

“Gonna shower,” he says before he can find out if it’s going to be awkward between them and he rolls out of bed, shuffling into the bathroom.

When he’s finished with his shower, he walks back out into the room to find that Nick’s got a pair of pants on now, sitting up in bed. Their eyes meet for a moment and Louis can’t tell. It feels less awkward than the morning before; neither of them is running away, at least. But it’s not quite comfortable yet. Louis doesn’t even know how _he_ feels about this, much less how Nick feels. It’s all too up in the air for it to not be a little bit tense.

“Was thinking about going down to breakfast before taking a shower myself,” Nick says, scratching his thumbnail over his knee. “Want to come with?”

It’s enough of a normal gesture that Louis can take a deep breath and smile. “Yeah, sure. Let me get dressed.”

Nick smiles, too, guarded but sincere, and he nods. “Good.”

When they get down to the dining room in the main building, they each grab some food from the buffet, then sit across from each other near a window. As they eat, Louis starts to feel better and better. He can’t look into Nick’s eyes without thinking ‘I came in your mouth last night and in your hand the night before and I have a girlfriend that I love but, fuck, I want to come inside you again’. He can’t block that out completely, but it’s easier than he expected.

“Think I’ll head down to the pool later,” Nick says once he’s finished his oatmeal.

Louis stabs a piece of strawberry and hums thoughtfully. “I could go for a swim,” he says, before realizing that, even though things are going okay, maybe he shouldn’t invite himself along. “If you want the company, I mean.”

Nick smiles, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks and he drops his head, looking at his empty bowl. Louis feels Nick’s foot tap his ankle under the table as he says, “’Course I want the company.”

Louis really would prefer if it was just sex because the rest of it has him feeling so off-balance that he can barely think straight.

-

Back in the hotel room, as they’re getting changed into swim gear, the phone rings. Louis lets Nick answer it, too busy looking for his sunglasses to bother.

“Hello?” Nick answers, then listens for a long moment before saying, “Oh. Right.”

Louis looks up, brow furrowed, and sees Nick staring back at him.

“Just a mo,” he says, then presses the receiver to his chest. “The other room’s ready.”

Louis had forgotten all about the other room, the one with two beds. The room they’d wanted so desperately just three days ago and the room that Louis doesn’t want at all now. If they were being responsible, they’d take it in a heartbeat and hope it would help, putting some distance between them. But it’s pretty clear they’re not being responsible at this point.

“Do you want it?” Louis asks, only vaguely aware that there is a person waiting on the other end of that line, probably confused and impatient.

Nick bites at the corner of his lip, looking around the room. “Don’t really fancy packing up and moving,” he answers noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders as if that’s the only reason he doesn’t want to change rooms.

Louis takes a breath and decides that he needs to be the one to say it if Nick doesn’t want to be that one. “Tell them we’re fine where we are,” he says, his tone decisive.

Nick stares at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nods, bringing the phone back to his ear. He delivers the message and hangs up before turning to Louis, a little hunched. “Are we going to talk about this?”

Louis sighs, a little sadly, because he was hoping to get out of the talking bit. He’s not sure what to say, really, not sure how to talk about something that’s so messy in his head. “I’d rather not,” he says, turning away from the search for his sunglasses. He leans against the wall instead, looking at Nick across the room. “It’s all so fucked up, Nick, I don’t – can’t we just do it? Do we really have to have a discussion about it?”

Nick seems to think about that, head bowed for a minute. When he finally looks up, he starts making his way across the small room, walking right up to Louis. He stops when they’re toe to toe, close enough for Louis to see the wrinkles by Nick’s eyes, the flecks of grey in them.

“Okay,” he says, surprising Louis. He’d been expecting Nick to push to talk about it, but Nick’s gaze flicks down to Louis’ lips, then back up to his eyes. “Okay, let’s just do it. I can’t not do it and torturing ourselves over it isn’t going to help anything, so let’s just – let’s just enjoy these few more days and then deal with the rest later.”

Louis stares back at him, a rush of guilt surging forward, but he pushes it back. He shoves it down, knowing that he’ll have to acknowledge it at some point, but Nick is right. It won’t help anything now and, if this is all they have, just a week in Bermuda, then Louis wants to make it as good of a memory as possible.

“Later,” Louis agrees softly. He reaches up to touch the side of Nick’s neck, tracing his fingertips over it.

It might not be a very good plan, but it’s the best they’ve got.

-

It’s a surprisingly smooth transition. The guilt and self-loathing pops up fairly often, but Louis is able to quell it quickly, kissing Nick to forget. It’s not hard; being with Nick, especially here, so far away from the real world, makes it so easy to forget everything else.

It’s harder when Eleanor texts him, but he keeps his replies light, sending her photos of the beach and the pool and his sunburned face. Never of Nick though; he can’t bring himself to do that.

They spend their days enjoying the sun and sand, drinking copious daiquiris, and snogging in the pool. They take afternoon naps curled up together and at night, they strip naked and take their time with each other’s bodies. Louis has amazing orgasm after amazing orgasm, every night better than the one before.

And they hold each other. They hold each other like they’re holding onto this week, like maybe they can keep it from ending so soon. It goes too fast anyway, like holidays always do, and Louis desperately searches for the brake pedal or a pause button, anything to keep this feeling a little bit longer.

Nothing works, though, so Louis just holds onto Nick for as long as he can, trying to prepare himself for what’s coming.

-

On the last night, Nick mysteriously leaves the room, saying he’ll be back soon and refusing to explain. When he comes back, just ten minutes later, he’s got a small paper bag and Louis quirks an eyebrow at him.

He’s all packed, ready to go in the morning, and he can’t ignore the anxiety that’s slowly taking up space in his chest. They have one more night, but Louis is already starting to deflate.

Nick doesn’t say anything, just sits beside Louis on the bed and hands the bag over. Curiously, Louis unfolds the top and peeks in. Inside, he finds a small box of condoms and a keychain. He smiles to himself, looking at the condoms, but he pulls out the keychain first. It’s got a coat of arms on it and _Quo Fata Ferunt_ scrolled along the bottom, with the translation: _Whither the fates carry us._

“Just something to remember this by,” Nick says softly next to him as Louis looks at the keychain. “I know you got some souvenirs, but I wanted you to have something from me.”

Louis smiles down at it and nods, turning to Nick. “The fates are tricky little fucks, aren’t they?” he says, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

Nick quirks the corner of his mouth up and leans forward to kiss Louis once, gentle and comforting. “The trickiest.”

As he leans away, Louis takes a deep breath and turns back to the bag in his hands, pulling out the box of condoms. “Yeah?” he asks without looking up.

They’d gotten close to it once, a couple of mornings ago when Louis woke up with Nick hard against his bum. He’d rocked back and Nick had rocked forward and they’d both wanted it then, but neither of them had brought condoms. But of course they hadn’t; they weren’t supposed to need them.

Now, with one night left, it seems to be the right time. It’s the worst time, too, the most awful, terrible time to let Nick inside him, to feel him through and through, but he knows this might be his last chance. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they get home, hasn’t let himself think about it, but it’s entirely likely that this will be it. One final hoorah.

“Yeah,” Nick answers, and tips Louis’ head up to kiss him again.

-

When Nick is inside him that night, Louis doesn’t even have to try to block anything out. He doesn’t feel guilty, doesn’t feel like a giant prick for any of it; he feels the way you feel when you finally scratch an itch, when you sink into a hot bath on a cold day.

All he feels is good.

-

“How’s this gonna work?” Nick mumbles long after they’ve finished and cleaned up, when his chest is pressed to Louis’ back, lips against his shoulder.

“Don’t know,” Louis answers honestly. He’s been thinking about it, of course, but he doesn’t know what the answer is. All he’s been able to figure out is that there is no choice that will be perfect. It’s going to hurt either way.

Nick is silent for a few minutes, the two of them lost in thought. Fingertips slide over Louis’ stomach and he closes his eyes, focusing on the touch instead of the gnawing feeling underneath his skin. Nick kisses him, his shoulder, and then his neck, and he rests his forehead against the back of Louis’ head.

“I don’t think I want to tell him,” he whispers. “I don’t want to hurt him and I don’t want to lose him.”

It makes Louis ache a bit, hearing Nick make that choice, but he’s been thinking that it might for the best, too. If they can put it behind them and move on, there’s no reason to tell Eleanor and Patrick. As long as it’s over, telling them will only cause them unnecessary pain.

“Yeah,” Louis replies over a sad sigh. He hesitates for a moment before turning over, looking into Nick’s eyes. “Just tell me it won’t be easy to stay away from me.”

Nick closes his eyes, squinting them like it hurts. “You’re such an idiot,” he whispers, then tilts his head down to kiss Louis slowly.

-

On the flight home, Nick listens to music and Louis stares out the window. They don’t talk, don’t touch, and it hurts in a way Louis never could have expected, but he keeps the distance and lets himself smile a little bit at the thought of seeing Eleanor again after a week apart.

When they finally land in London, it’s familiar, but all new, too, like the city he knows so well has been flipped upside-down. Eleanor’s smile makes him feel lighter, some of the weight that had settled on his shoulders lifting as he takes her in his arms.

When he looks over to see Nick and Patrick kissing, there’s a twinge of jealousy but he knows they made the right choice. It will probably feel like torture being around each other and smothering everything that had just started to bloom between them, but they don’t have a choice. It’s this or it’s both of them losing the most important person in their life.

It’ll hurt, but he’ll never regret the past week. He probably should, he knows, should wish it had never happened. He just can’t bring himself to wish away one of the best experiences of his life.

“Ready to go home?” Eleanor asks once they’ve all gotten proper greetings in.

Louis smiles. He thinks that maybe he is.

-

A week and a half later, Louis’ heart feels like it’s in his throat as he takes a roast out of the oven. He’s spent every day since returning to England thinking about Nick, but it’s been okay. Being back has reminded him how much he’d stand to lose if he and Nick kept things up. His love, his home, his whole fucking life as he knows it: he’d lose it all, probably.

But it’s been so easy because he hasn’t seen Nick at all. It’s easier to ignore all of it when he’s not there, but now, Nick and Patrick are coming over for dinner. It’s the same sort of evening he always used to dread, but now he’s dreading it for different reasons.

He hears a knock, then Eleanor answering the door, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the roast, spooning sauce over it as the others greet each other.

 “Louis!” Patrick says a moment later, walking up behind him. Louis turns and smiles, accepting a hug from him. He feels a gnawing sort of guilt deep in his stomach, but there are too many other things going on in his head to let him focus on it much.

When he pulls out of the hug, he sees Nick standing back, near the entrance into the kitchen. It stings so harshly, seeing him, and Louis can only manage a weak nod in his direction before he turns away.

“Uh oh,” Patrick says lowly. “Did the holiday not help you two mend fences?”

“I told you,” Nick says and, fuck, Louis can still hear his voice all breathy in his ear, rambling about how good Louis feels. “We didn’t even spend much time together.”

Louis closes his eyes as Patrick wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder with a heavy sigh. “I know he’s an idiot sometimes, but aren’t we all? Wish you’d get along.”

Louis has to bite down hard on his lip, feeling like the worst person in the world because he can see the two of them rolling around in bed, laughing together. He can feel Nick pressing light kisses to his temple. He can still hear that voice in his head, shaky and bare, saying that he’s close, that he’s going to come. It’s all still so vivid and Louis has to try to pretend none of it ever happened.

“I can’t help it if your darling boyfriend would rather do bloody yoga than enjoy the beach.” He tries to sound as displeased as possible, hoping to mask the discomfort of this whole situation.

Patrick sighs again and Louis can hear Eleanor behind him, assuring Nick that she loves yoga, saying that she wishes she could have gone instead, that they would have had a great time together. As much as he hates all of this, he still wouldn’t have given it up. He’s glad it was him that got to go.

They eat dinner and Louis and Nick barely look at each other. When they do speak, it’s with the same snippy tone that they always used to have with each other. It does make it easier, falling back on that, because there’s all this tension between them and acting like a prick sort of helps cut through it.

When they’re finished, Louis goes out to smoke, just to get away for a minute. He breathes the smoke in deeply and tries to let it calm his nerves. The door opens before he’s even taken his second drag and he drops his head as Nick steps up beside him until they’re standing side by side, facing away from the apartment.

“What are you doing out here?” Louis asks, frustrated and tired.

Nick lights his cigarette and pockets his lighter before he hunches over, leaning against the railing, and answers. “Telling you that I can’t stop thinking about you. That I’ll play along if that makes it easier, act like I don’t like you.” He takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales, then drops his head. “But you should know that I miss you like mad.”

Louis wants to hit him, wants to scream at him for saying that just when he was finding a way to deal with this. He wants to, maybe even _should_ , but he’s exhausted. He can’t bring himself to do anything but say, “Me too.”

He thinks maybe this is like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. There are a million different ways this story could go, a million different paths he could choose to take. It’s comforting in a way, thinking about all of those stories existing, like alternate universes. It’s nice to think about another path where he makes the choice to pull Nick into him and kiss him, one where he chooses Nick. He tries to imagine that it’s real, an actual universe out there where he and Nick are together.

But in this universe, in this adventure, Louis can’t. He has to make the choice to put out his cigarette and walk inside, back to Eleanor’s side. He has to choose the path that he can count on, the one that hurts the fewest people. It’s the smart choice, he knows it is.

He still dreams of Nick that night, but he keeps that just for him. Like the keychain hanging from his keys, like his memories of Bermuda, he keeps it like a souvenir.

 _Quo Fata Ferunt._ The fates really are tricky little fucks.

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler-y warnings regarding the cheating in this fic: there are times when they don't feel guilty for cheating. they don't regret it. and, most importantly, they don't tell their significant others what happened between them.


End file.
